From Jorge

This week’s stories may seem unrelated: a cruise line returning to the Sea of Cortez, Mexican avocados becoming part of Super Bowl Sunday, and sellers learning where profits quietly slip away, but they share a common thread. None of these outcomes happened by luck. They happened because someone built a system that held up over time. I’ve learned that when the structure is right, whether in tourism, trade, or a property title, confidence follows, friction drops, and results come faster. This edition of Wake-Up Call is about spotting those systems early and using them before timing, markets, or a closing decides for you.

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Subject of the Week

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Super Bowl LX: Seattle’s Defense Makes It Creative as Champions

On February 8 - in a game that felt like a narrative rematch of a decade-old rivalry, the Seattle Seahawks took the Lombardi Trophy back from the New England Patriots with a final score of 29-13. 

At first glance, football and avocados have nothing in common. One is a sport rooted in zone coverage and blitz packages; the other, a fruit whose creamy flesh has become an icon of cross-border tastes and trade. But the moment you unpack how avocados became part of America’s cultural diet and how that intersects with giant media platforms like the Super Bowl, you get more than a commodity story. You get a narrative about branding, markets, narrative framing, and cultural resonance.

The Unsung Hero: A Fruit That Became a Story

For decades, Mexican avocados were little more than a niche import, delicious but boxed into seasonal windows and regulatory constraints. In the 1990s, Mexico regained access to the U.S. market after years of prohibition, but with tight limits that reflected phytosanitary concerns and cautious trade policy.

Fast forward to the mid-2010s: avocado export volumes expanded dramatically, and with them, a fresh marketing insight. Avocados From Mexico, an industry coalition, saw that cultural moments could amplify a commodity beyond its agricultural value into the realm of shared experience. They eyed American football’s biggest stage, the Super Bowl, as the perfect backdrop to tell that story.

Their logic was simple and bold: where there are chips, there is guacamole; where there is guacamole, there is conversation. Why not then anchor the avocado not as a product, but as a ritual, the culinary co-star of shared screens, family Sundays, and cultural routines?

The gamble paid off. Strategic ad placements in Super Bowl broadcasts didn’t just move fruit off shelves; they turned the avocado into an ingredient in a cultural script that plays out every winter in living rooms across North America. Consumption turned into a habit. Habit turned into scale.

But here’s the part that matters most to me.

That story only worked because the execution underneath was solid. Supply was reliable. Quality was consistent. Timing didn’t fail. You can’t attach yourself to a national ritual if you can’t show up every time.

The avocado didn’t become iconic because of a clever ad.
It became iconic because the system behind it worked.

That’s the real lesson.

When an industry takes care of the details, production, logistics, standards, and follow-through, the story almost writes itself. Trust builds quietly. Habits form. And one day, something ordinary becomes indispensable.

That’s how avocados won Super Bowl Sunday.
Not with noise, with consistency.

Your turn:
What Mexican product or industry do you think is one solid system away from becoming that kind of quiet staple?

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When sellers think about maximizing their profit, they usually think about price.
What I’ve learned over the years is that money is often lost in small delays and avoidable problems

The simple question before you list is:

If someone reviewed your title tomorrow, would it help your sale or slow it down?

Because once an offer is accepted, the review is no longer optional. Names are checked letter by letter. Property descriptions are compared to reality. Improvements are questioned. Capital gains tax stops being a future concern and becomes immediate. If something doesn’t line up, your leverage disappears fast.

Most sellers don’t lose money because the market turns.
They lose money because something basic shows up too late.

That’s why I push preparation early.

The ILT Mini-Scan is designed to give sellers awareness before emotions and deadlines take over. It’s fast, it’s free, and it answers the question that really matters: Is there anything here that could delay my closing or reduce my net proceeds?

When issues need more attention, Onsite Analytics goes deeper. It reviews and organizes your title and related documents, flags risks, and gives you time to correct problems on your terms, not under buyer pressure. That’s where profit protection actually begins.

And there’s another advantage sellers often overlook: speed.

When ILT handles the closing, the reviewed information already lives in your personal dashboard. Banks ask fewer questions. Notaries move cleaner. Buyers feel confident. The process flows instead of stalls.

Less friction means fewer concessions.
Fewer delays mean faster proceeds.

From my perspective, selling property in Mexico doesn’t reward urgency; it rewards readiness. The most profitable exits are the ones prepared quietly, well before the offer arrives.

If selling is even a possibility, the smartest move isn’t listing faster.
It’s knowing exactly where you stand today, before the closing decides for you.

Your turn:
If you accepted an offer tomorrow, would your title help you maximize your sale — or quietly work against you?

Inquire about ILT’s Onsite Analytics or get your free Mini-Scan, available for limited time. Email us at [email protected] of visit www.ilt.com.mx.

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Holland America has opened bookings for its 2027–2028 Pacific season, and for the first time in a long while, the Sea of Cortez is back on the map, clearly, intentionally, and with follow-through.

Honestly, it feels overdue.

Not since The Love Boat has Mexico’s Pacific coastline been promoted this consistently and this positively to a wide audience. Back then, the focus was romance and sunshine. The planned experience by Holland America now seems to be a bit more mature: place, experience, and return visits.

The itineraries include Loreto, La Paz (Pichilingue), and Cabo San Lucas, with longer stays and repeat calls. That tells me this isn’t about flooding ports with people. It’s about giving destinations and visitors time to connect.

When ships stay longer, local businesses can plan better. Tours, transport, guides, all of it works more smoothly when arrivals are predictable. And when demand becomes predictable, cities have a reason to invest in basic infrastructure.

There’s also a slower, quieter benefit that shouldn’t be underestimated. People come back to places they remember. Loreto, in particular, has lived through that cycle before, and it can again.

Yes, care still matters. The Sea of Cortez is remarkable, but it’s not unlimited. Water use, waste handling, reef protection, and anchoring rules will always be part of the conversation. The good news is that thoughtful tourism makes those conversations possible and necessary, early on.

Why this matters locally is simple: cruise lines don’t commit years in advance unless they see stability and long-term value. When that signal shows up, it usually lifts everything around it, residents, businesses, and property owners alike.

Personally, I’m glad to see the Sea of Cortez getting this kind of attention again.

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Every time I explain the fideicomiso to a first-time buyer, I see the same pause:
“So… a bank owns my property?”

Short answer: no.
Longer answer: The fideicomiso is one of Mexico’s most durable and dynamic investment structures, and it exists for reasons that have very little to do with real estate brochures.

The fideicomiso wasn’t created to attract foreign buyers. It was created to protect Mexico.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, foreign land ownership often came with political pressure, military presence, and loss of control. After repeated interventions and territorial losses, Mexico drew a hard line. The 1917 Constitution restricted direct foreign ownership of land near borders and coastlines, areas considered strategic.

That rule never changed. But Mexico’s reality did.

By the mid-20th century, the country needed tourism, development, and foreign capital to build coastal destinations. Instead of rewriting the Constitution, Mexico engineered a solution around it. The fideicomiso was the result.

At its core, the fideicomiso is a bank trust with clearly divided roles.
The bank holds legal title to satisfy constitutional requirements.
The foreign buyer becomes the beneficiary, with full practical rights: to use, rent, sell, improve, and pass the property to heirs.
The seller contributes the property into the trust.

The bank doesn’t control the property. It doesn’t make decisions. It acts as a legal holder, a necessary layer, not an owner. I usually describe it as a referee: essential to the game but not playing it.

Over time, the system matured. Early fideicomisos were cautious and limited. By the 1990s, terms standardized to 50 years, renewable indefinitely. What evolved wasn’t ownership; it was transparency, compliance, and alignment with international standards. Not to discourage investment, but to make it credible and long-lasting.

The results are visible. Mexico’s major coastal markets didn’t grow by accident. Los Cabos, Puerto Vallarta, the Riviera Maya, all of them are built on this structure, quietly doing its job in the background.

The irony is hard to miss.
A mechanism designed to limit foreign control became one of Mexico’s smartest invitations to foreign capital.

The takeaway is simple: the fideicomiso is not a workaround and not a temporary fix. It’s institutional infrastructure that has aged well. When properly set up and maintained, it delivers security, transferability, and continuity, while respecting the legal and historical framework that made it necessary.

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